He lived an as-if life.
When he asked himself
what was different about himself
now versus just months ago.
He held two contradictory beliefs at once...
He knew there was nothing different
about his nature or character
than existed just months ago,
but he also wasn't fully
himself.

He had been part of 
a family
a couple...
He had a home.

Now he had no home -
no one who would 
care
about his arrival and departure...
no one who wanted him...
the same one who delighted
in his career success,
couldn't prevent its loss.

He didn't look any different...
didn't have any different 
character or morals... 

But he began to see himself
the way he had been told
others would see someone
like this. 
No, he KNEW
others saw him differently.

Thus he held two contradictory views
at the same time
about himself.
The reality he knew
and the as-if vie of himself
that he held - 
the as-if view of himself
based on the assumptions
he felt others surely held
about him,
as if these assumptions
were true. 
 

He began to think of himself
as if he was a different person...
as if he must be an alcoholic (?) 
or an addict - 
without the alcohol
or drugs...
as if he was 
lazy.
Though, while certainly not lazy,
he was losing hope - motivation.

Little by little,
these false and contradictory beliefs
became entangled with
the assumptions
regarding the 
as-if person he had become.

As a homeless person
they had no sense
of past or future...
the past was mourned -
the hopes, 
expectations,
predictability...
the past was lost.
The Present
was so 
all encompassing,
so overwhelming,
so challenging...
the only future
was immediate.

The scapegoats can always be found
at any age
The shy and scared ones -
skinny boys...
How they escape notice,
the invisible ones.
But fate would not allow them
stay hidden in childhood.
Something about them -
who knows what -
makes them
stick out
like the girl's first blood
on a white dress.

At 7 AM the homeless shelter
spits people out like,
some great phallus
or like a bad cough.

The sky drips
and the sun squints
and ghosts move
through the morning fog.

A people set apart
like shadows
that you wouldn't notice
until they speak to you...
asking for spare change.

Maybe you turn
or maybe you move
along faster - most of the time
they're invisible.

She seemed out of place
on this late July day,
wearing several layers of clothes
including a coat.

But she was invisible
even with her several bags
of belongings -
as if she was traveling - 
she was always traveling,
I believe.

I couldn't help looking.
I wanted to notice her.
I don't think anyone else
coming into the coffee shop
noticed her - she was invisble.

We made her invisible.
Not because we didn't notice...
we all believed that it was best
not to look
or to turn away
like when you catch someone 
picking their nose,
the polite thing
is to turn away - and fast.

I wanted to think of something
to say to her...
I wanted to notice her.
During the event,
I didn't see her leave
the shop and join us...
but she was gone...

I just wanted to show her
some empathy. 

I don't know
what her experience is
but I was thinking, 
just today...
I am also
invisible.

I heard Michael Jackson singing,
"I always feel like,
somebody's watching me." 
 

Is he paranoid?
I'm curious about that concept.
To believe that one is so noteworthy
that others would stare. 

I think it is more frightening
to hold as a belief or
to be a ghost - invisible -
to walk these streets,
to walk into places,
to go about your day,
and have no one notice you
at all 
nothing you do,
good or bad,
great or small
gains the attention
of anyone...

or so you believe...

And you are not on the mind
of anyone
who will wonder
when you are getting home,
or worry if you are late...

To be invisible
is more frightening.